


Goddamn Fortune Cookies

by wreckme



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckme/pseuds/wreckme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt over at The Sin Bin kink meme: "One of them gets de-aged to his rookie year/just before draft. Cue teenage (but not underage *cough*) hormones and feels about their wins and stuff. Rookie curls! Jonny's feels about them make him feel like a bad person. Kaner can't believe Tazer grew up so hot. Or! rookie!Jonny is in awe of Patrick being so mature (every older person seems mature, okay). Also, what do you mean we don't play on the same line anymore? Ooor whatever you want to do with it :D"</p>
<p>Patrick Kane will probably never eat another fortune cookie in his life. Probably. Then again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goddamn Fortune Cookies

It all came back to that fucking fortune cookie. Patrick’s pretty sure of that. 

_Sometimes youth see what elders cannot._

What the fuck kind of fortune was that, anyway? He keeps looking up in the rearview mirror of the Hummer as he heads to the UC. His hair… well, there’s more of it than there’s been in years. And it’s curly to the point of being wild. Kaner’s not going to lie to himself, having more hair and a few less wrinkles is pretty kickass. The acne he thought he’d finally escaped? Not-so-much. His clothes aren’t fitting him right; no matter what anyone says about him being a small dude, he HAS bulked up since rookie year, thank you very much.

He pulls into his spot in the UC’s parking garage, and heads for the locker room. He’s running late already from all the time he spent staring at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, trying to figure out how this happened. So of course, when he steps in the room, all eyes immediately fall on him.

“Holy shit!” Sharpy yells, nearly choking on a laugh. Duncs and Seabs tilt their heads in the same direction, like confused puppies. Shawzy actually stops running his mouth to Bollig and stares, open-mouthed. The whole room goes silent, save Sharpy’s hysterical laughter.

And Jonny… Jonny looks at Kaner like he’s seen a ghost. A ghost who’s holding the juiciest steak in all of Chicago on a silver platter. Well, that’s… _interesting._

Kaner swallows audibly. “Yeah, so… I think my fortune cookie gave me some sort of weird food poisoning. No big deal, right?” His grin is so shaky that even Sharpy stops laughing. 

~~~~~~~~~

The thing is, he’s still Kaner. There’s more hair and more zits and less wrinkles and less muscle, but he’s still the same Kaner he was when he went to bed last night. He thanks whoever for small favors, because he can’t imagine how it would be to be stuck in this body, with his 18 year old brain and none of the knowledge he’s picked up over the years and all of his team still around him, all… normal. 

Q has them work the power play and penalty kill during morning skate, and it’s… it’s not as bad as it could be. He knows what he’s supposed to do, but things just don’t feel quite the same. But he makes do, soldiers on, and he thinks this could actually be okay, that maybe he can manage this until he changes back. On his drive back to the condo, he wonders just how long that could take. He wonders if there’s anything he can do to speed it up. And he drives by the Chinese place and nearly stops, nearly goes in to ask just what the hell happened, but as he’s attempting to maneuver the Hummer into a parking spot that is in all honesty way too small, he has a startling thought. What if he managed to make it _worse_? What if he wakes up tomorrow and he’s no longer Blackhawks rookie Kaner? What if he wakes up and he’s 13 years old again? He nearly takes out a passing car in his haste to get away from the restaurant; 18 he can manage. He can still play hockey with his team. He doesn’t want to risk getting any younger.

~~~~~~~

The thing is, he’s feeling better than he has recently. Not that he’s been feeling awful or anything, but over the years the wear and tear add up. And his wrist… he looks down where there should be a fading scar, and there’s nothing. 

So maybe he’s a little lost for a moment, forgets where he is, forgets _when_ he is, and when Q calls for Jonny’s line, Kaner’s already got one leg over the boards before Bollig grabs him by the back of his jersey and hauls him back onto the bench. He looks out at the ice, his eyes tracking Jonny as he practically flies to the goal, a pass from Hossa connecting at the last second as he taps it in, making it look so easy. He’s on his feet and cheering, but a niggling little voice at the back of his head sighs. _Oh. Yeah._ They’re not on the same line anymore. And maybe he’s a little jealous that he wasn’t the one setting Jonny up for that goal. He ignores the part of himself that says what he’s really jealous of is the hug Jonny just gave Hossa.

~~~~~~~

They win. They win and it’s great and it feels as good as it always does. And as the guys are in the locker room celebrating, as Kaner watches Jonny walk across the room in nothing but a pair of Nike Pros, well. _That’s new_ , he thinks to himself as he feels his dick start to chub up. He purposefully distracts himself, reorganizes everything in his bag, until his dick gets the message. And no, now that he thinks about it, it’s not exactly new. Figures the 18 year old body would come with all the out of control 18 year old hormones. But Jonny? He shakes his head a little, like that can clear his mind. Jonny’s a good looking guy. Patrick’s not blind and he’s secure enough in himself that he can admit that. But he’s never… _well._ It’s just hormones, he tells himself. When he was younger he’d pop a boner after wins. It was a thing. That’s got to be all it is.

He tells himself the same thing when Jonny invites him over on their way to their cars and he feels his heart rate speed up, a heat pooling in his belly. It’s just adrenaline from the win. Nothing bigger than that.

~~~~~~

Jonny loses him in traffic and beats him back to the Regatta because OF COURSE he does. Jonny drives like a maniac. Patrick hates driving in Chicago, bought the Hummer because being one of the biggest things on the road makes him feel marginally safer, but he’d still rather drive himself everywhere than ride with Jonny. By the time he’s made it to Jonny’s door, there’s leftover spaghetti in the microwave and garlic bread warming in the oven. Jonny tosses him a bottle of Gatorade as Patrick ambles towards the sofa. 

“Good game tonight,” he says, pulling the tray of bread out of the oven. Patrick makes a noncommittal noise and shrugs. 

“You should know, Mr. Four Point Night. I felt like I was just keeping my head above water out there. I know what I want to do, but… it’s like my body’s just _off_ by a tick. Like it won’t do exactly what I want it to.”

“Yeah, about that…” Jonny says wearily, as he hands off a plate of spaghetti and toast to Patrick and takes a seat beside him. “What exactly… what the hell happened to you? You’re you, but you’re…” Jonny trails off, and pops a meatball in his mouth. Patrick snorts. He supposes that’s one way to deal with this awkward situation.

“I’m… 18, I think?” he says slowly, and takes a long sip from his bottle of Gatorade. “My body’s 18, at least. I’m still me. I remember everything. I just… woke up like this,” he finishes, gesturing from his chest up to his hair. Jonny’s eyes follow the movement of his hand.

Jonny sets his plate down on the coffee table in front of him, turns sideways on the couch to really look at Kaner. “Yeah…” he breathes, as he takes in this younger version of Kaner in front of him. It’s familiar and disconcerting all at once. They spent so much time together that rookie year, so many interviews and photoshoots together, and so much time as roommates on the road. But that was years ago, and it’s weird having this past version of Kaner’s face looking at him, knowing that present day Kaner is inside there. Jonny doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Kaner clears his throat nervously.

“Yeah, so…” Kaner says, his eyes flickering away from Jonny’s and back to their plates on the table. “So are we going to actually--”

“Fuck. I always wanted to just reach out and drag my fingers through those curls,” Jonny whispers, and Kaner’s eyes snap back up to meet his. 

“Wh-what?” He takes a shaky breath, and that warm feeling in his belly is back, hotter now. “You… you can, you know,” he says softly, and Jonny’s already reaching towards him, his fingers outstretched. He brushes his fingertips along Kaner’s temple, back into the hair above Kaner’s ear, his fingers twisting gently, reverently among the dirty blonde curls.

“Jonny…” Kaner breathes out, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Please… just… _please._ ” His voice cracks. It sounds like he’s begging. He’d like to blame it on the body he’s in, but he’d be lying to himself. It’s everything to do with the way Jonny’s touching him like he’s something precious. 

Jonny’s fingers tighten minutely in his hair, just a tiny little tug, and Kaner moans brokenly. 

“Please, Jonny. Come _on_ ,” and this time Kaner knows he’s begging, knows it’s obvious.

And Jonny? Jonny’s never been the type of person to say no when someone’s asking so nicely.

He leans in, lets his lips brush across Kaner’s, just a ghost of a touch before he presses firmer, and Kaner’s lips slide open with a wet little exhale. He brings a hand up, positions him just so the angle’s right, caresses Kaner’s cheek with his thumb, as his tongue slips inside Kaner’s mouth. The kiss is everything he’s been holding onto for six years, all the times he _wanted_ and didn’t allow himself to _have_. From the way Kaner’s hands scrabble desperately against his shoulders, pulling him closer, he wasn’t the only one holding back. For as much as he worried about taking advantage, Kaner’s the one pushing for more, or pulling, as the case were. Before Jonny gets himself under control enough to ease away, Kaner’s already pulled Jonny completely on top of him, his leg wrapped around Jonny as he grinds his hard-on against Jonny’s thigh. Jonny pulls back slowly and drops his forehead to Kaner’s shoulder, trying to get a hold of himself.

“I’m not… we’re not… I can’t. Not like this,” he pants, hating himself even as he’s saying the words.

Kaner’s making these little hitching breaths with every grind of his hips. “Funny, because that’s not what your dick’s saying,” he breathes out as he presses his thigh up against Jonny’s very obvious erection.

Jonny steels himself, digs up every ounce of self-control he has, and grits out “I’ve waited six years. I can wait another day or two.” And then, just to seal it, he meets Kaner’s eyes “Can you? You have that kind of control?” 

And Kaner groans, because Jonny’s got him. He may be in an 18 year old’s body, with an 18 year old’s hormones, but he’s gotten a little bit better at not yielding to his impulses over the years and he’ll be damned if he’s going to act like some dumb kid and have this be over with a (really hot, admittedly) dry humping session on Jonny’s couch.

“Ugh, okay, okay…” he mutters as he pushes Jonny up off of him. “But this is not over. As soon as I’m,” and Patrick waves a hand at his body in a manner that Jonny interprets _as soon as I’m my grown-ass self again_ “we are picking this back up where we left off.”

Jonny nods and silently hopes that’s soon.

~~~~~~

Two days later, Kaner wakes up to less hair, a lot less acne, and a lot more muscle mass.

And also, Jonny’s morning wood poking him in the ass.

Patrick grinds back against it, laughing. 

“Wake up, Jonny. It’s time.”


End file.
